The Casket on Canal Street

The Casket on Canal Street – Part 1: The Empty Casket

A Mimi Delboise Mystery

A funeral on Canal Street brings New Orleans to a standstill—until the coffin is opened, and nothing is what it seems. Enter Mimi Delboise, detective.

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The funeral procession had been magnificent—the kind of spectacle that made Canal Street shopkeepers abandon their counters and office workers press against windows to witness the pageantry of New Orleans grief. Six black horses with purple plumes pulled an ornate hearse carved with weeping angels, while a brass band played a dirge so mournful it seemed to pull tears from the very air. Behind the hearse, a line of carriages stretched for three blocks, filled with the city's most prominent citizens come to pay their respects to Marcus Trevino, insurance broker and pillar of the community.

Which made it all the more shocking when the pallbearers stumbled.

Mimi Delboise watched from the steps of Godchaux's department store as the six men carrying the mahogany coffin suddenly lurched forward, their faces registering confusion and alarm. She had been observing the procession with the detached interest of someone who made her living from other people's tragedies, noting the quality of the carriages, the cut of the mourning clothes, the careful choreography of public grief. But when the lead pallbearer nearly dropped his corner of the casket, her professional instincts sharpened.

"Mon Dieu," whispered the woman beside her, a well-dressed matron clutching her reticule. "What are they doing?"

The pallbearers had stopped entirely now, setting the coffin down on the cobblestones with expressions of bewildered consternation. Their hushed conference was interrupted by the arrival of Monsieur Beauregard, the funeral director, whose normally composed demeanor had cracked to reveal something approaching panic.

"What seems to be the difficulty?" he demanded in a voice that carried across the suddenly quiet street.

"The casket, Monsieur," said the lead pallbearer, a burly man whose face was flushed with embarrassment. "It's... there's something wrong with it."

"Wrong how?"

The pallbearer gestured helplessly at the ornate coffin. "It's too light. Far too light for a man of Monsieur Trevino's size. Feels like there's nothing in it but air."

A murmur rippled through the crowd that had gathered around the stopped procession. Mimi found herself moving closer, drawn by the peculiar drama unfolding on one of New Orleans' busiest thoroughfares. The October heat was oppressive even in the shade of the buildings, and she could see sweat beading on Beauregard's pale forehead as he contemplated his options.

"Impossible," he said firmly. "The casket was sealed yesterday evening in the presence of family members. You gentlemen are simply... perhaps the heat..."

"We've carried caskets for fifteen years," the pallbearer replied with quiet dignity. "This one weighs maybe a quarter of what it should."

The crowd pressed closer, drawn by the irresistible magnetism of public scandal. Mimi recognized several faces—merchants, lawyers, politicians, the cream of New Orleans society who had turned out to honor one of their own. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to horror as the implications of the pallbearer's words sank in.

"Open it," called a voice from the crowd. "If there's nothing wrong, opening it will settle the matter."

"Absolutely not," Beauregard protested. "The family specifically requested a closed casket viewing due to the... ravages of yellow fever. It would be indecent, improper..."

But the crowd had taken up the cry. "Open it! Open the casket!" The chant grew louder, fed by the peculiar enthusiasm that seized crowds when confronted with the possibility of scandal among their betters.

Beauregard looked around desperately, clearly hoping for rescue from this impossible situation. When none came, he produced a set of keys from his black coat with the resignation of a man approaching his own execution.

"Very well," he said. "But I want it understood that I am acting under duress, against my professional judgment and the wishes of the bereaved family."

The brass fittings gleamed in the afternoon sun as Beauregard worked the locks. The crowd held its collective breath, and even the brass band had stopped playing, their instruments hanging forgotten at their sides. Mimi found herself holding her breath along with everyone else as the funeral director lifted the heavy lid.

The coffin was empty.

***

Stay tuned for Part 2 of The Casket on Canal Street as Mimi Delboise investigates the mysterious disappearance of the man who was supposed to be in that coffin. Follow Gio Marron on Vocal or subscribe to The Elephant Island Chronicles for more serialized mysteries.